Eat
by kittycat1810
Summary: Tim knew it wasn't healthy, but maybe demon brat was right... Better than it sounds. Warning: anorexia, purging, self-hate.
1. Chapter 1

**This will probably be a one-shot unless there are a lot of reviews… TRIGGER WARNING: anorexia, self hate, cutting. I don't really know the treatment for anorexia. I don't think anything in here would offend anyone but I'm very sorry if it does.**

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**Tim POV**

He knew he needed to eat more, especially because of the shaking and dizzy spells, but… what demon brat said about a month ago had hit a nerve and really gotten to him.

_Flashback_

"_Drake, you are a disgrace! Sitting in front of that computer all day, no wonder you're so fat! I bet Father doesn't let you out as much because he knows you'd be an easy target!"_

And he knew Dick was being sarcastic, but still…

"_Yeah, sure Damian, because Tim's soooo fat. *eyeroll* He definitely needs to lose 20 lbs!"_

Sure, they didn't know he had used to be anorexic or that he had had purging disorder, but they didn't have to say things like _that_. Both of them knew he was self-conscious.

Tim stumbled and leaned against the wall of Mt. Justice as he was hit with severe dizziness and weakness. His legs, which had been shaking for about a week gave out. On the ground, the dizziness got much worse. _Usually I just pass out for a bit… This is one of the worst signs. I need to get to Dr. Thompkins…_ "Conner." He weakly whispered, knowing that Superboy would hear him. Sure enough, Superboy walked in about twenty seconds later, then rushed over.

"Robin? Are you okay? You don't look too good. Should I get Nightwing?"

"No, d-don't tell 'Wing. C-can you g-get me a b-bit of food? F-feel like I'm gonna p-pass out. Don't t-tell anyone, p-please." Tim begged, looking up at Superboy. Superboy nodded and came back in about a minute. A suffocating black was beginning to cloud Tim's vision. He took the yogurt from Superboy and began to shakily slurp it. By the end of the container the black had faded and Tim felt well enough to stand up. "Can you take me to Gotham General? Dr. Leslie Thompkins." Superboy nodded and walked right next to him, ready to catch him if he fell. Luckily he had been wearing his civies.

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**Superboy's POV**

Superboy heard a small thud and a soft, weak voice whisper "Conner." He got up from the couch where he had been watching static and walked towards the voice. After passing through another door in a mostly unused part of the mountain he saw Robin slumped on the ground against a wall, looking almost white. His heartbeat was a bit weaker and slower than the healthy norm. Conner ran over to him and asked "Robin? Are you okay? You don't look too good. Should I get Nightwing?"

"No, d-don't tell 'Wing. C-can you g-get me a b-bit of food? F-feel like I'm gonna p-pass out. Don't t-tell anyone, p-please." Robin begged, looking up at Superboy. He nodded and came back in about a minute. Robin looked like he was about to pass out. Robin took the yogurt from Superboy and began to shakily slurp it. By the end of the container he looked a bit better and stood up. "Can you take me to Gotham General? Dr. Leslie Thompkins." Superboy nodded and walked right next to Robin, ready to catch him if he fell.

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**Tim's POV**

About halfway from the telephone booth to the hospital I began to get dizzy again. We were about a block away when my legs gave out again. Conner quickly scooped me up and hurriedly carried me the rest of the way. When we reached the check-in desk I said "Dr. Thompkins."

The receptionist looked at me and said "Do you have an appointment?"

I shook my head, regretting it as the dizziness worsened and the stifling black began to rim my sight again "Tell her Tim is here; she'll see me."

The receptionist sighed and hit a button on the phone. "Dr. Thompkins, two boys are here with no appointment for you. One says to tell you his name is Tim."

Leslie's voice cut her off, "I'll be right out."

Literally ten seconds later Leslie walked out and paled when she saw Superboy carrying me. "Right this way." She walked swiftly down the hallway and into an empty room. "Now, Tim, what happened?" She asked as soon as Superboy set me down on one of the beds that was sitting up.

"I-I think the… I… The anorexia's back again." I looked down, ashamed, and hugged myself with my weakened arms. Superboy drew in a sharp but quiet breath and Leslie sighed. She pressed the call button on the remote next to my bed and told the nurse to bring a meal.

"Tim, did you tell Batman or Nightwing?" Leslie asked. I shook my head and she sighed again. I couldn't help the tear that slid down my face before I reached up and brushed it away. "Do you want to call them or do you want me to?"

My head shot up and I frantically yelled "No, you can't! They'll kick me out! I'm fucked up enough as it is! They can't know! They'll think I'm more flawed than they already thought!" Tears were freely streaming down my face.

Leslie looked sad as she pulled me into a tight hug. "They would never do that. The only thing they think is improper with you is what they blame your parents for. They would never kick you out and they don't think you are flawed. They need to know though, Tim. This is serious."

I felt my will crumbling, just like everything else in my life seemed to, as she spoke. But, what if she was wrong and they did kick me out? Where would I go? The nurse from earlier came in holding a tray full of food and my stomach growled in hunger with just the smell. Leslie put the foldable tray up and put it in front of me. "Eat as much as you can, then one more bite." She smiled and left the room, probably to call Bruce and Dick.

I ate about half of the turkey before I felt like I would be sick. I decided to take a break and let my stomach settle its contents, calm down, and stretch a bit before eating more. The words began to circle my head again "_No wonder you're so fat! I bet Father doesn't let you out as much because he knows you'd be an easy target!"_

"_Tim's soooo fat he definitely needs to lose 20 lbs!"_

I needed to get them out to get better so I turned my head to where Superboy had been standing since he came in. "Thanks for coming Conner. You can leave if you want." He shook his head and sat in one of the chairs by my bed.

"I'd like to stay if you don't mind. You nearly gave me a heart attack." He gave a small, comforting smile. I gave a small, shy smile back before looking down again.

"You probably saved my life. I knew no one uses that hallway, so that's where I'd usually go during mealtimes. I was about to pass out, but I-I'm not sure I would've woken up, or been able to get up, if I had." I began to shake again, realizing just how close I had come to dying. I felt the bed dip as Conner sat on it. He gently pulled me into a hug as if afraid of breaking me. A cool liquid slid down my face as the tears came again with the memories of my parents' words. _"You need to lose weight. 17 inches is far too fat for a seven year old boy." "People will begin to make fun of you if you don't lose weight. You're so plump you're overweight!"_

He held onto me, kind of reminding me of a less suffocating version of Dick, as sobs racked my body. Large, rough hands traced gentle, soothing circles into my back as I cried. After about ten minutes I had finally stopped crying and said "Sorry."

Conner just smiled and said "Its fine." He let go and I began to slowly eat more of the horrible tasting hospital food. My abdomen began to ache, feel upset, tight, and bloated so I gladly stopped eating due to the nausea, pain, and vicious protesting of my stomach at the overcrowding of the shrunken organ. I laid down, curling around my aching belly, closed my eyes and held onto my stomach as the sore, tender throbbing got worse. The overstuffed feeling from overeating (for me at least), despite the aching and complaining from the packed, swollen organ, began to make me drowsy and tired. Loud moans tried to force their way out of my mouth but I held them in.

A loud yell "Where is he?!" Bruce's voice sounded from down the hallway. I heard loud, quick footsteps come to the door of my room and walk over to my bed. Superboy left the room and there were two dips in the bed. "Tim?" Bruce asked. I hazily opened my eyes and looked up at him, feeling a shamed flush light up my face. Dick grabbed onto me and gave me a strong hug. He unknowingly squashed my woozy, stuffed abdomen, upsetting it further, and I gasped in pain. He quickly let go and I curled further around my middle, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Please don't. I ate more than I'm used to and feel sick."

"Sorry!" Dick said.

"It's fine." I said.

"Leslie told us you are anorexic and have been anorexic before. Is it true?" Bruce asked in a stern but worried voice. I slowly nodded, feeling ashamed. I expected him to be mad, like my parents had been when I was diagnosed, or to be disappointed. That was why I was surprised when I felt one of his large, callused hands soothingly stroke through my slightly sweaty hair. "Oh, Tim. You are definitely not fat. Never feel like you have to change anything for someone else, never." Bruce said caringly. I opened my eyes and looked up at him before sitting up and hugging him. He gently hugged me in return, softly rubbing my back in calm, relaxing circles. Tears began to fall down my face, but I found that I didn't care as I nestled closer to him. I was content to just sit in his loving, comforting, protecting embrace and just feel… safe.

My parents had never done anything like this, but Bruce was so different than my parents. They had been negligent and uncaring, only speaking to me when they yelled at me for doing something wrong. But Bruce, he was kind and attentive. He took time to talk to me, even just to ask me how my day was! He always watched over me and made sure I was doing alright. I felt guilty, putting him through this after he had taken me under his wing and given me a safe, free sanctuary. "I-I'm s-sorry." I said between sobs.

Bruce suddenly stiffened and pushed me back. He pulled my chin up and I saw he looked mad. I knew I was probably looking scared and trembling. "You have _nothing _to be sorry for. Don't think this is your fault. This isn't some inconvenience; it's us worrying for you. We love you and are worried about this. We love you and we will take care of you, but do not blame yourself for this, Okay?" I hate how good he is at persuasive speaking. I found myself nodding and agreeing with what he said, but the doubt remained. Bruce nodded and said "I have to go talk to Leslie; just call if you need anything." He ruffled my hair and left.

Dick scooted over and gently pulled me into his own soft hug. "You okay Timmy? Well, obviously not the best, but you better now than before?" I groggily nodded and hugged him back. "What caused it to come back?"

I flinched, knowing he would blame himself but… "R-remember about a month ago when Damian said I was fat?" His eyes lit up with recognition, then grew angry. "A-and you said sarcastically that I needed to lose weight?" Dick looked ashamed now. "Well, I know and knew you were being sarcastic, but even so, comments like that can cause a relapse. It's not your fault or Damian's though! Neither of you knew because I didn't tell. Sorry I give you guys so many issues." I looked down again.

Dick gave me a small squeeze and said "You give us no issues. Me and Jay? We give issues galore, but you have never given us any problems. I love you, little bro."

I yawned then sleepily looked up at him, "Love you too… bro." He laughed and pulled me onto his lap before laying down on the bed, tenderly holding me in a soft, comforting, sheltering embrace.

"Go to sleep Timmy. We'll be here when you wake up." I felt Dick place a gentle, brotherly kiss on my forehead before I drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.

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**There it is! I hope you liked it. Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the wait. Exams and getting grades up. Thanks for the reviews! Cutting, anorexia, bulimia, depression, and self-hate warning.**

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**Tim's POV**

I woke up with Dick still holding on to me. He was asleep so I had to sneak out of his embrace to go to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror as I was washing my hands and flinched at what I saw. My skin was nearly white, dark bags hung under yellowed eyes, I was shaking, and my hair hung limp too. I looked horrible. No wonder they felt bad for me if I looked like this.

A pang for self-punishment surged through me and I grabbed the edge of the mirror before quietly breaking it off. Dark crimson blood quickly oozed out of the deep cut I made. The pain felt so good. I made another cut before I sunk to the floor, leaning against the wall.

A loud knocking sounded through the door before Dick said "Tim? Little bro, you okay? Open up!"

I couldn't let him see me like this, not that I could have moved with how dizzy I was becoming. He deserved a better, less flawed brother than me. Bruce deserved a better son than me. I wasn't worth their care or concern. They'd be better off without me. "Stand back!" Dick yelled before he kicked in the door.

He gasped when he saw me, and especially the blood that covered my arm. He yelled "Leslie!" before running over and pressing some toilet paper to the cuts. I hissed as the pressure made the cuts sting. Dick looked up at me, his eyes full of hurt and horror. Tears leaked out of my eyes before I threw my arms around him and started sobbing.

Leslie came running in and, when she saw my arms, grabbed gauze and tape before coming over. I tried to stop crying as she wrapped my arms, but I couldn't. Once she was done she said "I think your medication needs an up in the dose." I nodded, my body still shaking with sobs. Dick pulled me into his lap again, hugging me like his life depended on it.

Something wet fell on the back of my neck, then my shoulder. After a few seconds I realized that Dick was crying too. He deserved better than me, who couldn't even protect me from myself. "Why? Why would you do this to yourself? God, little brother. You're wonderful and smart and nice and well behaved… you're a great kid! A good son, a great brother, why? Please, please don't do this to yourself. Please."

What? What was he talking about? Mother and Father always said I was a terrible child, dumb, needy, ill mannered. What was Dick talking about?

Bruce came running in, ran over to us, and hugged both of us. "Tim, you are not flawed or damaged. You are perfect. Please, please tell us what we can do to show you that you aren't an inconvenience. Please, Tim, please."

I felt my tears slow as I leaned into Bruce's hold, feeling drowsy from slight but sudden blood loss. I blamed my next words on that fact. "D-Daddy, I'm broke. Please, help me." then I passed out.

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**Tim's POV 5 months later**

"Then, Wally tripped right through the window of the jewelry store and into the thugs robbing it!" I laughed with the rest of the team as Wally, who was visiting, turned as red as his hair at the end of Nightwing's story.

It had taken time, but I had gotten better. Dick and Bruce's aid had helped a lot in quickening my recovery. Leslie made it pretty clear that I would probably have relapses, even if I took my meds everyday like I was supposed to. I noticed that Dick, Bruce, Red Tornado, and Black Canary looked at the security tapes from the mountain a lot. One time, I hacked the computer to see what they had looked at; they had been making sure I was eating correctly. Both Dick and the team always made sure that I wasn't completely alone. Superboy had become my frequent companion. He knew that silence can be just as companion-like and comforting as anything. We had become good friends after he had taken me to the hospital at the beginning of the mess.

I had been gaining weight and was now at the healthy weight, which was a first for me. Everyone had also been stealing glances at my arms, looking for any signs that I was cutting. It was a good feeling: the one you get when you know people care. I didn't want it to leave. Therapy was still going on and Leslie said I would have to go about once a month for another year, then once a year. Bruce and Dick praised me a lot and made sure to spend time with me. I felt bad that they had to rearrange their schedule for me, but they insisted that they wanted to spend time with me. It was a lot of fun, even just going to the movies or museum. My parents had never done either with me.

For now, I love life and I plan on using it to be a hero, a Robin, just like my brother.

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**The end! Feel free to create an alternate ending, just please say that the story was my idea. Thank you for reading! Please review!**


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